Big Dreams in Little Rodentia
by ROG'sNotebook
Summary: The ZPD doesn't care about what happens in Little Rodentia. But while most of Zootopia's tiniest mammals are willing to accept organized crime as a necessary evil, one young shrew prepares to make a stand. He may be small, but his ambition is gargantuan. One-shot, rated for mild violence and some implied mature themes.


" **Big Dreams in Little Rodentia"**

 **A** _ **Zootopia**_ **Story**

The young Arctic shrew hit the floor of the dimly lit café with a resounding thud, sending up a thick cloud of dust.

"So, you're the kid that's been causing my collectors so much trouble."

The little mammal spat out a mouthful of blood, struggled to his paws and knees… and glared up at the fattest, ugliest rodent he'd ever laid eyes on. The rat was immense, easily twice as tall and thrice as wide as any other non-big animal he'd ever encountered. His gut, straining to escape his white suit jacket, nudged the underside of the circular dining table with every labored breath he took; his teeth jutted from his crooked snout like yellow daggers; and his pale, hairless tail coiled around the leg of his chair like a writhing worm.

"What's your name, son?" the rat asked, dropping several sugar cubes into his espresso.

"Maurice," the shrew replied, his voice a low rasp.

"Why don't you speak up?" the rat snapped.

"He can't, Mister Ratello," stammered the tracksuit-clad guinea pig that had… escorted Maurice in. "He's got some kinda speech…"

"I didn't ask you, Gino," Ratello barked, and the chastened guinea pig slinked off to some shadowy corner. "Sit down, Maurice," he added a moment later, lazily stirring his beverage.

Maurice stood, staggered forward a few steps, and collapsed into the chair across from the larger rodent.

"I hear you cracked one of my boys across the noggin with a baguette," Ratello said, his spoon clinking against the rim of his cup.

"It seemed only fair," Maurice replied, ignoring Gino's embarrassed cough, "seeing as how he'd just tossed a brick through the window of my grandmama's bakery."

"A family man! And with moxie, to boot," the rat mused, pausing to noisily slurp down his drink. "I like your style. You're hired. Gino'll fill you in on the finer details. Just make sure you don't fall behind on your quotas."

"Sorry," Maurice hissed, his paws tightening into small fists, "I already work for Mister Gerbillini."

"That tailor?" Ratello scoffed with a dismissive wave of his empty cup. "Kid, how old are you?"

"Nineteen," the shrew replied.

"Haven't you outgrown sweeping floors for a nickel a day?" the rat chuckled, causing the scattered silverware to rattle. "I'm offering you the opportunity to make some real money."

"You mean the money you've been stealing right outta my neighbors' pockets?" Maurice growled, his beady eyes burning like embers beneath the bushy fur on his brow.

"It ain't stolen," Ratello insisted, feigning offense. "It's… a fee. For services rendered."

"Right. For _protection_ ," Maurice replied, spitting the word as though it were poison.

"That's right," the gangster said matter-of-factly. "You're too young to remember what Little Rodentia was like before I whipped all the hoodlums and lowlifes into shape. An honest mammal couldn't walk two steps without getting mugged. And if you were a lady… well, let's just say you didn't want to get caught outside after sundown. And the ZPD? Didn't do nothin'. Those gates keep the big criminals out, so they figure our little problems ain't worth worrying about." His chair creaked in protest as he slowly leaned forward. "Fact of the matter is I keep these streets safe. I'd say I deserve some compensation for my hard work."

"And if anyone comes up short, you smash their property," Maurice countered, baring his fangs.

"Just a friendly reminder of what happens when you take advantage of my generosity," Ratello said, his dull pink eyes gleaming maliciously. "And if _you_ should happen to come up short, wise guy, a broken window's gonna be the least of your granny's worries."

Maurice shuddered as the implication sank in.

Ratello leaned back, a self-satisfied smirk spreading across his muzzle. "Gino, show the boy out. He's got a lot of work to do before the week's over."

B-B-B-B-B

Maurice squinted as he stepped out into the blinding sunlight, closely shadowed by the brutish guinea pig.

"Here," Gino said, holding out a small, tattered handkerchief. "Wipe that blood off your lip."

"Why are you being so nice all of a sudden?" the shrew asked, reluctantly accepting the peace offering.

"Well, we're in this mess together now, right?" the taller mammal replied with a shrug.

"I'm not a criminal like you," Maurice shot back, wincing as he gingerly dabbed his throbbing cut.

"Look," Gino sighed, "you ain't the first sucker Don Ratello roped into this racket, and you ain't gonna be the last. Just… do yourself a favor: swallow your pride and do what he says. Because if you don't, well…" He peeled back his lips, revealing several gaps in his gums that should have contained teeth.

The young shrew, shamed into silence, carefully folded the lightly stained handkerchief and handed it back. "Somebody needs to take him down," he growled after a moment of thought.

"What, like the cops?" Gino asked, messily shoving the cloth into the pocket of his tracksuit. "You heard the don: they're useless this side of the wall. What are they gonna do, send a rhino to knock on doors and chase down suspects?"

"No, Ratello was right about that much," Maurice admitted, smoothing out the wrinkles in his ruined shirt. "Little Rodentia gave that scavenger his power. It's up to Little Rodentia to send him scurrying back into whatever hole he crawled out of."

"And I s'pose you're gonna be the one to rally the troops?" the guinea pig snorted, scratching the bump beneath the golden-brown fur on his head. "Face it, boyo: there ain't a rodent alive who's got enough guts to stand up to the boss. And one little pipsqueak like you ain't got a prayer against him."

"Gino, my friend," Maurice said, gazing up at the towering skyline beyond the tiny, isolated community that he'd always called home, which suddenly felt so small and insignificant, "sometimes you have to dream Big if you want to change the world."


End file.
